Famous Throughout the Land
by Cathy Massiter
Summary: What if Pixie Dust truly never lied, what if a young Regina had gone into that tavern after all, and what if she got more than she bargained for when she actually met "The Man with the Lion Tattoo"?
1. Chapter 1

It's a dark and rainy night.

Regina, Queen of the Enchanted Forest, muffles another scream into a tightly clenched fist, fear of being discovered forcing her remain as silent as possible so as to not alert anyone else in the castle to her current state.

She's been in labour for hours. Her father, Prince Henry, grips tightly onto her hand as her trusted maid Louise assists with the birth. The contractions are so close together she can barely tell where one ends and the next begins. Only a couple of minutes pass before Louise finally instructs her that she should begin to push.

...

She has managed to hide all nine months of her pregnancy with her child cradled protectively underneath voluminous skirts as he or she tumbled and developed. She has gratefully used the particularly frigid winter as an excuse to drape herself in heavy cloaks and blankets around the castle, and no-one has suspected a thing.

Beneath her layers she is still slight - months of morning sickness, followed by months of worry, not giving her much of an appetite (though she had forced herself to eat as much as she could stomach for the baby's sake), but she is all neat rounded bump at the front.

If her husband and his daughter had not been so caught up in their own frivolities, they may have noticed the first few months of sickly pallor and change to her figure. But for the first time, Regina is thankful for her neglect.

Louise had guessed. Her dressing maid had witnessed her first bouts of morning sickness and had even flatly informed Regina that she was pregnant before she herself had known. In an odd display of comfort, she'd taken the younger woman in her arms as she wept on the cold floor of her room and assisted in devising a plan.

Seemingly cold and unfriendly at first, Regina had gained Louise's trust when she unintentionally discovered that she was having an affair with one of Leopold's soldiers, Kenneth. She'd seen him leaving her maid's adjoining quarters in the early hours of one morning, and then again several other times. She'd never confronted either of them or let on that she was aware of the dalliance, but had managed to use the information to gain Louise's allegiance. Regina had found out that Kenneth was to be sent to the front-lines of battle and nonchalantly suggested to her husband that she would feel safer with a guard posted near to her quarters. Recommending Kenneth for the job and enabling them to continue their relationship has earned her maid's gratitude. Ever since, Louise hasn't eased in her stoic demeanour, but she has shown her thanks in small but numerous ways and proved that her loyalty is to the young Queen.

Although she'd had her maid with her, Regina had still felt desperately alone. Beyond keeping her secret safe Louise really wasn't much of a companion and seemed to have no interest in being a friend to her. Regina had been terrified about what was going to happen; there was no way her indiscretion could go unnoticed. She'd spent many a night sleeping fretfully, tossing and turning and fearing for her future and that of her baby.

Getting rid of her child hadn't been an option. Abortion was heavily outlawed in the Enchanted Forest and all wise-women and midwives had been frightened into silence, courtesy of a campaign by Leopold to dig out any practitioners and burn them at the stake as an example. So they'd devised a plan: Regina would give birth, then smuggle the babe out of the castle and find a new home for the infant. There were a lot of childless couples in nearby villages, Louise had told her. Finding a good home for the babe shouldn't be a problem.

For this plan to work however, one more person had been needed.

Henry had been shocked into silence when she tearfully confessed to him that she was with child and that it wasn't Leopold's. But as usual, he was eventually kind and supportive of his only daughter.

"But Regina dear, how will he know the child is not his?" he'd inquired gently.

"My husband doesn't regularly require me in his bed," she'd snuffed into his shoulder. "Many months have gone by since we were was last intimate, and now it's too late! He could work it out, and I just can't risk it Daddy!"

"What about the father?"

"He was a mistake, " she'd stated firmly, trying to avoid her father's gaze. "He can't be involved in this."

She had told herself she would pretend the encounter hadn't happened. She'd closed herself off, convinced herself to not think about her night of misjudgment. Unfortunately, there is no escaping this rather permanent reminder. Still, she'd promised herself she'd focus on the child and what she was to do and not dwell in the past. She intends to do just that.

Although reluctant at first (Henry had felt like her plan was incredibly risky), her father had agreed to her course of action and began to make discreet inquiries as to a suitable home for the child.

...

She'd tried to avoid being bedded by the King, terrified that he would noticed the changes in her body, but somewhere at the beginning of her second trimester she had run out of excuses and been forced to lay with her husband.

To her completely disbelief and relief, Leopold hadn't even noticed. On very rare occasions does he desire her completely naked. More often than not, he opts for quick and easy. Thankfully, that time had been one of the latter; he'd just bunch her nightdress at her hips and had his way with her. The only indication he'd given of noticing something amiss were his mutters about her watching her weight as he didn't find a plump wife desirable before he'd slunk back to his own quarters. Regina had almost collapsed in relief and as she lay in bed later that night, stroking her stomach and vowing to the life growing inside that she would never allow anything harm them.

Having Leopold's hands on her while she was pregnant had her feel even more sick than she usually did. She supposes it's because the child was so completely innocent and she didn't want him or her anywhere near her slimy husband.

Thankfully, his distaste about her weight kept him away from her for the remainder of her pregnancy and she managed to keep her secret until she was full term. Had luck been on her side, she would have been overdue by a couple weeks, therefore having the baby while Leopold was away for his long winter progress. Sadly, her child had manifested its presence a little earlier.

...

She'd had a dull throb in her lower back for most of the day. Everything ached, her ankles were swollen, but she was used to a lot of discomfort due to her heavy dresses, restricting jewels and burgeoning pregnancy, so she originally didn't think much of it.

They'd been halfway through dinner when cramps took her by surprise, her fork clattering to her plate as she sucked in a breath. Leopold's "Are you alright my dear?" is gritted through his teeth, jaw clenched in irritation because she'd managed to interrupt his conversation with an important delegate from another kingdom.

She'd flashed him an apologetic smile and lowered her eyelashes, the picture of modesty, "Oh I'm fine my King, merely clumsy," and had spent the rest of the meal clutching white-knuckled onto her cutlery, eating small bites and pushing her food around her plate as she sucked in deep breaths through her nose with every contraction.

What couldn't have been more than an hour-long meal had seemed to last an eternity as she fought to keep her composure, terrified that her water would break and give her away, or that she wouldn't be able to tamper down the louder moans each spasm of pain risked to draw out of her.

After dinner, she'd announced as soon as she was able that she was feeling tired, a bit under the weather, and bid everyone goodnight. Another flash of irritation had crossed Leopold's face because she was abandoning their guests ahead of time, but he'd been quickly caught up in another discussion, allowing her to escape.

She'd made it back to her quarters just in time, had pressed her back to her closed door with a relieved exhalation when warm fluid gushed down her thighs.

The last thing she distinctly remembers before the blur of the past few hours is yelling, "Louise! It's time!"

...

Luckily, Leopold seldom ventures to her wing of the palace. His visits are few and far between, and the staff steers clear of her whenever they are able to make sure she knows how distasteful of a replacement Queen they find her. Despite these circumstances working in her favour, she is still determined to not give herself away and tampers down the near impossible urge to moan and groan her way through her labor.

It's long, arduous and emotional, but Henry and Louise do their best to support her. After several long hours – it seems she's been pushing for what seems like even longer than that – Louise cuts the cord connecting Mother and child and places the wriggling, squalling infant on her chest. "Say hello to your son, Regina," she says, and Regina might be delirious from exhaustion, but she thinks she might actually see tears in the other woman's eyes.

"A boy! Regina, it's a boy!" Henry cries out joyfully.

Regina snuggles the babe close and breaths him in while he begins immediately rooting around against her breast, instinctively searching for food with little grunts and snuffles.

Henry clears his throat and announces that he would sneak down to the kitchen and get her some tea with honey and perhaps something to eat to get her strength up as Louise helps unbutton her the top of her nightgown. The baby immediately latches onto a nipple. It's an unusual sensation, not entirely comfortable, but she relishes in it, aware that she's not going to be able to spend time bonding with him in the future. She feeds him until he at last falls asleep with a tiny contented sigh.

She adjusts him into the crook of her arm as Louise assists in getting rid of the afterbirth and changes the sheets around her. Looking down at the tiny life in her arms, Regina can't help but feel a rush of warmth and love towards him. He's hers, dependent on her doing what's best for him and she suddenly doesn't know if she can send him off without ever knowing what happens to him. He's so beautiful, her son; soft dark hair, tiny button nose, little pouty lips. Completely perfect.

Her father insists that she eats, so she nibbles on a couple of crackers he's brought back from the kitchen with shaking hands, her mind in overdrive as she watches her child sleep soundly, safely in her arms. "I just don't think I can let him go," she whispers brokenly to her father as she runs a gentle finger over the baby's head. "Now that I've seen him, held him, fed him. I don't want to leave him."

...

"I don't want to just leave him."

Henry watches his daughter, already completely besotted with his Grandson, and finds he can't swallow the lump in his throat.

Regina's life hadn't been easy, with a wicked mother and a miserable marriage, and he doesn't want her to go through any more pain. As long as there is anything he can do to help her, he will do it. He recalls her own birth, thinks back to the way her mother had passed Regina off to him and turned her back on them both to go to sleep. He had taken the precious bundle and laid her on his chest over his heart and watched her sleep.

He thinks back to how he'd immediately loved her and vowed to protect her, always.

He'd failed her before, broken his promise to her and to himself, but in this moment he vows to never do so again. "Oh, my love. He's so perfect and he looks just as you did when you were a babe." He places a gentle hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"He does?" she sniffles, still unable to tear her eyes away from the bundle of joy in her arms.

"What if I take him to my quarters for a few days..." he offers, a desperately half-formed plan flitting through his brain as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and wraps his arm around her.

Regina blinks up at him in confusion.

"Hear me out," he soothes. "I could take him and hide him away... People are used to me secluding myself with books and papers for days on end. You could sneak away and feed him when you are able, perhaps Louise can help me..."

"But what about…" she begins, sitting upwards and frowning, trying to wrap her mind around what he's saying.

Henry already feels lighter, finds it easier to breathe than it has been ever since Regina had confessed her pregnancy. It would be a dangerous, but he thinks they will be able to pull off his plan. His daughter won't have to give up her son, and maybe she can find happiness in a life with him. He continues, "Then, when he's a few days older, I can pretend I found him abandoned by the road-side." As he speaks, bits and pieces fit together in his head. "You can announce you intention to have him as your ward. Noble women do it all the time, it is quite the fashion, and no-one would be surprised that you're indulging in a whim to avoid such tedium during the frequent times your husband is away." This could work, it really could. "Leopold would probably show off about it upon his return. About how his new wife is so charitable to the peasants."

"You really think we could pull this off?" Her brow furrows as she contemplates the plausibility of his suggestions.

"If you're sure it's what you want. I think we can try." It's not going to be easy for any of them, but he can feel in his heart that this is for the best. For her. For all of them.

"I want him more than anything!" her tears begin to flow and she swipes at them to prevent them from spilling onto her son. Her son. He can't believe his own baby girl has a baby of her own.

Henry pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes her eyes and nose. They sit together, both watching over the little boy as he sleeps soundly.

After a while he hears Regina struggle to contain a yawn herself. She must be emotionally, and physically exhausted, but he can understand her reluctance to allow herself rest, in case her son needs her.

"You sleep for a while dearest," he tells her. "You must be exhausted. I'll watch over you both and wake you if he awakens."

...

"Regina?" Consciousness comes flooding back as her father softly wakes her with a hushed call of her name. "He's just waking up, I suspect it won't be too long before he needs nursing again."

Momentarily disorientated, she looks down as she recollects the events of the last few hours and smiles. Her son looks even more adorable than before. True to her Father's words, the little boy's eyelids are fluttering and his lips smack together as he fights against the pull of sleep. Hunger is definitely going to win out any second.

"He's truly beautiful my darling," Henry whispers reverently as he peers down at the squirming bundle in her arms, looking just as entranced as she feels herself. "What are you going to call him?"

She has spent many hours in the library flipping through books and carefully considering names. Even when she thought she would have to give him up, she had wanted to name her child. Something that she would be able to think of in quiet moments.

She'd had a few options in mind, but now, looking down at him, his chocolate brown eyes, gazing up at her unfocused, she knows exactly the perfect name for him. "I think... I think I want to name him after Great Grandfather. You always told me what a kind and just King he was and I would love to do something to honor him, and you, in that way." She tears her eyes away from her perfect child for a few moments, and gives her father an exhausted but happy smile. Fear and uncertainty would undoubtedly catch up with her later, but for now, she'll allow herself this precious moment of joy.

Her father wraps the baby's tiny fist around his finger and gasps a little in awe as it is instinctively grasped onto. He chuckles along with her as the boy scrunches up his face in protest as she presses a loving, gentle kiss to the side of his face, nuzzling her nose into his baby soft skin.

He doesn't look an inch like his father, Regina thinks to herself. He already has quite the head of wispy dark hair and beautiful brown eyes that she wanted to stare into forever. She cuddles him closer, breathes him in and relaxes further back onto her pillows as she strokes a finger across his forehead and little cheeks, already showing traces of dimples. "I love you baby boy," she breathes.

"Happy birthday Roland."

* * *

 _AN: This is the first multi-chapter story I've attempted. Let me know your thoughts and if you think I should continue it._


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I didn't really think it through that Regina's maid was going to be Tink and then Tinkerbell was also going to have to take her to the tavern... So if you're not new to this story you may want to re-read chapter 1 as I've changed a few things. Her maid is now Louise and she's based on Nurse Ratched from Once. Sorry!_

* * *

It's balmy outside, just on the cusp of Summer. Although the air is thick and cloying, the Castle is a cruel and barren place,the stone walls chilling its inhabitants.

This time of the year is especially hard for Regina, as she misses her stable boy, Daniel, more than ever. Alone in the palace, a chorus of cicadas is the only sound keeping her company. She longs to feel the cool grass beneath her bare toes and the wind in her hair as she charges through meadows on the back of her horse. Although Rocinante is still with her, she rarely gets gets the opportunity to take him for a ride anymore. As Queen, she is expected to be at her husband's beck and call and any time she indulges in a ride, the resulting argument and manipulative mind games that follow barely make her momentary escape worth it.

With the heavy press of Daniel's death, the stale air and oppressive walls, she dresses in billowy sleeves and floaty skirts, allows her hair to tumble down her back instead of pinning it up into cumbersome, weighty twists atop her head. The dress is white today, ironic she thinks, in view of her gradually darkening soul.

She is beginning to feel as though the cabin fever will slowly drive her insane. She may be halfway there already. Although she initially abhorred the idea of learning from The Dark One, she is starting to tolerate his visits merely because it is the only time she is in the company of someone who, in his sick twisted way, cares about her. She isn't naive to think he's not doing it to ultimately satisfy his own purposes, but at least he visits and encourages her in her progress with the dark arts, which empowers her with a sense of accomplishment and alleviates the tedium of day to day life.

But even with the Dark One's visits, the crushing loneliness and suffocating routine have been slowly driving her crazy. Her thoughts towards the King, Snow and other inhabitants of the castle are becoming particularly venomous, so much she is snapping at her father, at the servants, and she feels as though she's never going to make it out the other side.

One day, when she just can't take it any longer and accidently takes a nosedive off her balcony - she's not entirely certain it's a coincidence; maybe apart of her wanted it all to end then and there -she is rescued from the brink of death by a sparkly green, bothersome fairy.

...

"Inside here lies the beginning of your happiness. All the pain in your past will be just that. The past."

The tavern isn't much to look at. A particularly strong gust of wind could probably bring the whole structure to the ground, but there is a warmth glowing from inside, a sense of home and family. The door swings open as one of the patrons leaves and jovial laughter reaches her ears.

"I just need a moment."

Can she really do this? What is she even going to say to him? "Hi, I'm your soulmate?" seems like the surest way to make someone run for the hills. And what if he recognises her as the Queen? What if he doesn't like her? All these uncertainties are making her anxious and apprehensive butterflies gnaw at her stomach.

"You're nervous. I get it. But look! There he is." Regina steps in to take a look at him herself. Her breath catches at the sight of him. He is slouched over his tankard of ale and from the periphery looks particularly unexceptional. The man raises his right arm so that a waitress can refill his cup. An intricate lion tattoo adorns his right arm. The man with the lion tattoo.

"That's him?" Could this bad postured bar dweller really be the man she's destined to be with?

"Pixie dust doesn't lie. Come on, this is your chance of love and happiness. A fresh start. No baggage. You can let go off all the anger that weighs you down. Now, go get him."

If she is being truthful, her reluctance stems more from her doubt that she could possibly be any good for him. People she cares about tend to get hurt and why would he want to learn that he is cosmically shackled to a broken, semi-suicidal woman on the verge of a mental breakdown?

"Okay. Okay, I can do this. I can be happy." Pushing her pessimistic thoughts to one side, she summons all of her remaining courage and composes herself. If she's had bad luck until now, there is always the last-ditch hope that things can get better, and maybe this is the way to do it.

"I know you can. Go."

With another deep breath to steel her nerves and a nervous smile, she flings open the door, a bit more exuberantly than planned.

...

Robin, notorious bandit, sits with his friends formulating a plan for their next heist.

Things have been hard in the Enchanted Forest since King Leopold took the throne. Although he is beloved by his people, taxes are high and his spending opulent, resulting in many poor families barely able to make ends meet. Robin seems to have nurtured a talent for stealing from the rich, to lessen the pain of some of the peasants in need. The previous night had been quite the success and their large bounty had done much to reduce the hardship of their family and neighbours.

"I, Robin of Locksley, would like to propose a toast!" He stands and raises his tankard to the ceiling jovially as his men cheer and stamp their feet.

"Hush Robin," his second in command hisses, "your name has become far too well known about these parts and you never know who's listening." He's right. Robin has garnered quite a reputation for himself and is currently wanted throughout several kingdom's for crimes against the crown.

"What should I go by then, John Little? Something a bit more common as the likes of you?" he jests and John punches him on the arm, strong enough to cause Robin to splutter out the mouthful of ale he'd just taken.

"We'll see who's more common when you're strung up on the gallows like a _common_ thief because you couldn't keep your fat mouth shut!" he grouches.

"As you wish," he placates. "I hardly think it's necessary, but if it'll put your mind at ease."

"It will."

A sudden hush falls over the table, taking Robin's attention away from another sip of his beverage. He looks over his shoulder at the source of the distraction, only to find the most remarkable creature he has ever seen in his life, looking at him with a tense smile. The gorgeous brunette stands just behind him, long curls cascading to her waist. Her dress looks expensive, intricately embroidered and studded with crystals (possibly even diamonds), that gleam in the candlelight. She's exquisitely beautiful, full lips, dark eyes, shapely figure. Simply stunning, in every way.

She seems very out of place, and hesitance flickers across her features. She is as skittish as a young foal, like she might dart away at any second and he immediately doesn't want her to. "Can I assist you in anyway m'lady?" he turns in his seat, cocks one leg over the bench so he can face her. His friends start to resume their individual conversations and turn away from Robin and the surprising new addition to the tavern.

"Oh no, I just thought we may have met before. Forgive me." Her voice is husky and rich and defies her appearance. She spins on a foot to turn away, before she pauses, seemingly at war with herself, but apparently finds her resolve as she turns back.

She takes a step closer and opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can he interrupts her.

"You wouldn't happen to believe in a higher power, would you?"

She stares at him in confusion. "What?"

"Because I think you're the answer to my prayers," he tells her, smirking. One of his men doesn't manage to quite reign in his snort of amusement and the mystery brunette blinks and then huffs out a laugh of disbelief of her own.

...

"Does that line actually work?" she scoffs, all nervousness forgotten and replaced with irritation at his cockiness. _This_ is who the Universe has destined her to be with? This arrogant scoundrel? Seriously?

"Doooes a beautiful lady like you have an equally as exquisite name?" He bites his lip, seemingly proud of himself.

She rolls her eyes and says, "I'm Regina," before internally kicking herself for thoughtlessly blurting out her real name.

There's no flicker of recognition in his eyes however, and when he reaches out a hand, she places hers in his. "Pleasure to meet you Regina, I'm R…" The bench jolts and he winces slightly, shooting daggers at the large man to his left. "John!" he blurts out, and she blinks at him in confusion before he recovers and flashes another unarming smile. "The name's John."

"Is it?" She feigns disinterest.

"Is my name John? Why wouldn't it be?" His brow furrows.

"No, I mean, is it a pleasure?" she corrects, raising an eyebrow.

"Ahh. Let's find out." Her hand still in his, he brushes a warm kiss over her knuckles and gooseflesh tingles up her arm. "Would you care to join me for a while?"

Unable to resist the warmth of his smile and the mischievous twinkle in his captivating blue eyes, she sits daintily on a stool opposite him as his companions decide to not-so-subtly relocate to another area.

She feels completely out of place. Her attire is entirely inappropriate; everyone else is dressed in clothes meant for working and she sticks out like a sore thumb. John orders her a drink and he's... a charmer, completely at home in his own skin. Arrogant? Yes. Cocky? Definitely. But there's also a warmth to him, a quiet strength and sense of honesty.

The drink enables her to loosen up, gives her a little bolster of confidence, but even without it she's sure conversation would flow between them with ease. She sasses him, he sasses back, he compliments, she glows… He asks questions about her life, seems legitimately interested in who she is and what makes her tick. She answers the best she can, dodges what she can't and learns more about him in return. He tells her of his friends, more his family really, and he regales her with stories of their tomfoolery. As she can't talk much about her current position, she sticks to safe topics, like her childhood. Of growing up and of afternoons wiled away on her favourite horse. She can tell he's also hiding certain things, but does her best not to pry because he has given her the same courtesy. Nothing has felt this right in a very long time.

She's attracted to him. Deeply attracted. Her earlier assessment of him being average couldn't be further from the truth. He's taller than her, but not excessively so, his chest and shoulders broad and strong, his hands calloused and arms well defined. His voice alone seems to stir the simmering arousal within her and if the way his gaze keeps dropping to her lips is any indication, she's not the only one feeling it. There's a mischievous sparkle to his eyes and she finds it captivating.

Before she knows it, they're alone. The last few stragglers are exiting the public house and the bar wench is throwing them pointed looks, hinting that they should leave too. The last of their conversation ebs away into a comfortable silence and he contemplates her, head tilted slightly to one side, smiling warmly. "Please don't think this another one of my idiotic lines M'lady, but there's something about you that entrances me." He covers her hand with his own and she can feel her cheeks flush.

"Thank you for this evening." She clears her throat and studies the roughly hewn wood table. "It has been… the most fun I've had in a very long time and I'm sad that it appears to be at an end." She is really enjoying his company, doesn't want the night to be over. She never thought that she would feel this way again after Daniel, but now that she does, she doesn't want to let it go.

"I am too." He takes a long moment to stare at her and she's almost unnerved by the emotion in his eyes, before he shakes his head. "Let me walk you out." He keeps his hand in contact with hers and allows her to stand from her seat. Entwining their fingers, he leads them out of the tavern door.

His hand against hers burns, aflame everywhere his skin touches hers. He pauses several paces down the alley that connects the tavern to the main road and lifts her hand to his mouth once more, kissing her knuckles, turning her hand over and pressing another kiss to her palm.

The feeling is so intimate he may as well be kissing her mouth and she releases a quiet whimper. "Don't go," he whispers, pressing another kiss to her wrist, and one in the crook of her elbow. She shivers as he takes a step closer, releasing her arm and cupping her jaw, kissing her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before finally connecting their lips.

His other hand slides to the small of her back, pressing her to him as she presses into his body. The night is humid, but his warmth is still a welcome one. The kiss awakens a long dormant arousal in her, makes her yearn to be closer to him, to feel his skin against hers. She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the current climate and all to do with the soft press of his lips against hers as her stomach curls with anticipation. He tastes mildly like ale, slightly malted with a hint of sweetness, but she can't say it's unpleasant.

For several heady moments, they kiss, exploring each other's mouths, tongues tangling. He breaks them apart, kisses her lips one last time before mouthing across her jaw and down the side of her neck. She moans as he sucks lightly on her sensitive skin, wraps her arms round his shoulders to anchor herself and moans again in encouragement. His hands stroke her sides, wandering up and down, before settling with thumbs just framing below her breasts.

"Wait," she stops him and he immediately pulls away, looking at her with concern, an apology forming on his lips, but she's talking before he has a chance to say a word. "We shouldn't be doing this." She finds that she doesn't want to deceive him, can't be with him under false pretences.

"And why not?" He's not disappointed, just confused.

"You don't know everything about my life, about…" She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. "I'm married, John."

His face falls. He takes a step back to give them both some breathing room and contemplates her, expression unreadable. She wishes that she could tell what he's thinking, wants nothing more than for him to not be disappointed in her, or resentful for her dishonesty. In this short time together, she has really grown to like him and can't bare to have hurt him.

Apprehensively, she allows her story to pour out. She still can't tell him that she's the Queen; it would endanger them both. But she does explain how she has felt the last few years, tells him about feeling trapped, how she'd lost her first love and was then pushed into an arranged marriage by her mother to a husband that barely notices she exists until he wants to show her off to his guests.

"He's an idiot if he doesn't realise what he has right under his nose." He's angry on her behalf, doesn't like the thought of her being mistreated or lonely. She can see it in the flex of his hands and the tight clench of his jaw and her heart longs for him even more.

"So you aren't happy?" he finally asks. "If you were, you wouldn't be out here with me."

"I'm not," she sadly agrees. "I'd leave him in a heartbeat if I could. But you don't know what he's like, it would be dangerous to..." Fear grips her heart at the thought of something happening to him.

He sighs resignedly, tucks a lock of her behind her ear and cups her jaw, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. She can't help but turn her head and place a kiss into the palm of his hand. "I feel like you belong here with me. I know that's crazy and that we've only just met but…"

"I feel it too." Her forehead drops to his chest for a moment, and he cradles the back of her head, stroking a hand through her hair.

"I should go." She mumbles into his shirt, wanting to do anything but. "I'm sorry that I've led you on, led you to expect that I was free to be with you."

"Regina, no." He tilts her head up and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I had no expectations of this night. I've just immensely been enjoying your company this evening. I'd much rather have spent my time with you than with a group of smelly men." She chuckles at that, relief washing over her that he truly bears her no ill will

"But must you really leave? I would normally have no desire to cuckold another man, but he seems like a complete fool for the way he has treated you."

Her eyes brim with tears as she shakes her head and tells him she truly doesn't want to go home just yet. That she'd felt more alive in one night with him than she could remember.

"We can just go to my quarters and talk all night if you wish. I'm quite content with just spending some more time getting to know you. And from what you say, it's unlikely that you'll be missed." He looks completely sincere and the warm, mushy feeling she's developing towards him finds further purchase on her heart as he gives her another devastating smile which she answers with her own weak one. "Whatever you want Regina."

Whatever she wants. No-one has ever allowed her to do what _she_ wants before. Annoyance flashes through her. Why shouldn't she do what she wants for once?

Regina has been so alone for so long and he is rightfully hers after all. He's the man she is destined to be with. Who knows if she'll see him again after this? But the Universe has made him for her and she wants to be selfish. She doesn't want to be The Queen, or Leopold's wife; she just wants to be a woman, a woman desired by this man. Her mind suddenly made up, she takes a deep breath and tells him, "I don't want to talk. I want to do something for me. Just this once."

He smiles, huffs out an almost relieved sigh. His thumb moves from her cheek to brush across the fullness of her bottom lip. She can feel the warmth of him all down her front. She leans in and her breasts brush against his chest lightly before he groans and captures her lips in another soul-searing kiss.

The hand by her cheek pushes into her hair as his other slides to her elbow. He walks them both backwards until the alley wall support her back. She opens her mouth to him again willingly and their tongues begin a new tentative dance.

They remain pressed together intimately for what could be minutes, or could be hours, drinking each other in. The hand at her elbow moves to her hip as heat pools between her thighs. She can't remember ever being this aroused, this wanting, and she truly does want him more than anything. The kiss seems to suddenly flame, she can feel him against her as she presses impossibly closer, hard against her hip. She lifts one leg to wrap around his and he slides a hand to the hem of her skirt, rucking it up past her knee. His hand slides gently up her inner thigh, stroking back and forth as their mouths fuse and a wanton moan passes her lips.

He groans when his fingers move further up and encounter the damp material of her underwear. And she can't help the whimper that escapes her as he hesitates and slowly traces along the edge before pushing the material away at her shaky nod and slipping his fingers inside, exploring gently.

When he first touches her center, she feels unsteady, her other leg trembles as she is lost in the sensation of him and he manages to catch her just in time with his other arm before it buckles and lands them into a heap on the dirty ground.

She whines at the loss for his hand from under her dress, but he presses her forehead into his shoulder, and whispers into her ear,"Would you come to my lodgings with me? I'd like to... explore you properly."

Growing even wetter with the anticipation, she nods into his shoulder. He takes her hand again, thumb rubbing back and forth across her knuckles as he leads her round the back of the tavern and up some rickety steps. Apparently, he's living above.

"You're staying here?" she questions.

"It's not much, but it's home for now." The room is spartan but clean, and he gestures for her to take a seat on the edge of his bed, moving to stand in front of her. It strikes her that she's never been in this position before, able to just spend time with another man, and she's never in her life made love to someone. With Daniel, there had only been a few innocent fumblings, hidden from the world in an old stable stall, and Leopold uses her to satisfy his own needs and cares very little for her own.

"Can I get you something else to drink?" John asks, nervously running a hand over the back of his head, ever the gentleman.

She's suddenly determined to experience all of the things she's missed out on.

Fisting a hand in his shirt, she pulls his mouth to hers. He's surprised at first, hesitates for a second before he reciprocates the kiss, but when he does, it's toe-curlingly good and she thinks she could spend eternity with her lips fused to his.

Placing a hand on his belt buckle, she forces herself to pull away. "You said you wanted to explore me, but would you mind indulging me?" She looks up at him pointedly and the corner of his mouth quirks in response.

Taking it as acquiescence, Regina slowly undoes his belt, fingers working with the buckle until it gives, then reaching around to untuck his shirt from his trousers, nails coasting over bare skin. John reaches forward, combs fingers through her hair, tucking it behind one ear. He looks at her with hooded eyes, mouth parted slightly as he breathes deeply, shivering at her ministrations. From there, it's a matter of seconds before the garment is discarded on the floor, long forgotten, her eyes taking in the view of his torso for the first time.

Her breath catches; he truly is attractive.

Following suit as he kicks off his shoes, she drifts her hands across his shoulders and down his chest, palms resting over his firm pectoral muscles. Fingers skating over warm skin.

Ducking his head down, he steals another heated kiss, full of teeth and tongue. Distracted, Regina indulges him for a long moment before she recollects her previous intentions. "Wait!" she gasps out as she manages to break away for a breath. " _I'm_ exploring _you,_ " she says with a pout and he answers with one of his own, which quickly melts away when she starts placing kisses and nibbles along his jaw.

He's impatient, her soulmate, and his hands gravitate from their safe purchase on her waist to her behind, palming her rear and pulling her hips closer toward him. Her lips hit his neck as he does so, kissing and biting gently, making him groan. Her mouth slowly explores his flesh, learning what he likes, the areas that make him squirm and groan as his head tilts back.

She can feel him, hard against her lower half and rolls her hips against the bulge in his trousers, trying to alleviate some of the pressure building between her legs. He sucks in a breath and "mmmms" in the back of his throat. The sound is delicious, sends tingles through her body, makes her clit throb and nipples tighten against him.

One of his hand has tangled in her hair again, the other playing with the end of another stray lock. He likes her hair, she notes. May have a little fetish for it. She mouths her way up and back across his jaw to his mouth again, licking against the seam of his lips until he opens up to her.

She slides a hand down between them, juts her hips backwards so she has room to worm her fingers between them and trace his length with a soft touch. She revels in the sounds he makes, at the pleasure she's obviously giving him, at the way his hips press into her hand.

Eventually, he stills her with a gentle palm on her wrist. "I know you want to explore, love..." she tries to ignore the way her heart skips a beat at the label he bestows upon her, "but I equally want to explore you. May I?"

Scant moments pass before he shuffles them both forward, reluctantly parting their lips, and makes her sit back on the bed. She scoots back further this time, tucks a leg under her body so she can tug him onto the bed for her. He pauses first though, finishes undoing his trousers and she can't help but lower her eyes and sneak a peek at him as he's not wearing anything underneath.

Cheeks flushing, she lays backwards and settles herself against his pillow as he puts a knee onto the mattress and moves over her. His hand wraps around her ankle, then travels up, slowly hitching her dress up as it goes. The feel of the gossamer fabric is highly erotic as he takes pleasure in teasing her, dropping a kiss here and there as more flesh is revealed. One to her knee. Another to her hip. He also catches the edge of her slip and brings that up with the rest of her vesture. His breath catches as he bares her breasts, Regina's nipples pebbling further against the cooler air and he lightly touches, almost reverently, trails his fingers over the swells of her breasts as he pulls her dress the rest of the way off. Normally, embarrassment would have taken over her right now, but for some reason, his touch has the opposite effect. She's never been this calm.

His lips follow his fingers, kissing across her chest. He lingers at her nipples, swirls his tongue around one, while his fingers lightly rub at the other. Little zings of pleasure spark where he makes contact with her skin and dart down to her core, and she bites her lip to keep quiet. He alternates breasts, gives the other the same treatment and then moves lower, placing warm kisses down the plane of her stomach to just above her sex. Her thighs part as he nears the place where she aches for him, allowing him to move into the space between her legs.

John toys with the edge of her underwear before catching the hem in his fingers and tugging them down, allowing her to slide them the rest of the way off.

He looks up at her heatedly and she tangles a hand into his hair as he places a kiss to her clit. Staying silent is impossible this time, a heady moan he seems to appreciate breaking the seal of her lips. he feels him smile against her core before starting up with little petting licks, fingers tracing whorls on her inner thighs. He is entirely too talented with his tongue, she thinks as he continues his task with enthusiasm, the sight of the top of his head and his face buried in her sex incredibly erotic, and her core clenches in response.

When she almost bucks away from his mouth from the acute pleasure, he drapes one arm across her hips, effectively stilling them. His fingers trail over her sex, one of them circling around her entrance, and he groans against her thigh when he feels how wet she is for him, before sliding one inside, thrusting in and out slowly. She's getting close now, far too quickly. She wants to indulge, for this to last forever, but she has only ever managed to orgasm using her own fingers before, Leopold never bothered about anything other than his own pleasure and she's far too riled up for this to last much longer. He pushes another finger into her and sucks hard as she tips over the edge with a whimper, pleasure spreading upward from her core and pulsating through her for a long minute.

She's breathless and sweaty, can see light beads of moisture on her chest as she looks down at him with hooded eyes. He allows her to come down slowly, fingers still moving in and out of her as he rests his head on her leg and grins. "I can't wait to be inside you," he tells her reverently. It's hot, how much he wants her and she's sure that sentence alone just made her a whole lot wetter.

She asks him what he's waiting for and he's breathing just as heavily as she is as he crawls swiftly up her body. He's trying to hold back, but she doesn't want him to anymore. She's completely ready for him and knows that he is for her, probably past the point of comfortable arousal and fully hard as he settles between her thighs. He skims the tip of his nose along hers, she can taste herself on his tongue when he kisses her languidly making the whole experience more illicit and wonderful.

"You are so beautiful," he says as he pushes her knees a little wider, one hand pumping himself up and down a couple of times while the other dips between her legs again, checking that she's still wet. She is, is ridiculously so, has been for a better part of the evening by this point. Satisfied by what he finds, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly and they both moan in tandem as he stretches and fills her until he's buried to the hilt. He takes a moment, gives her time to adjust to him and kisses her once more before he begins to move.

She feels full, pleasantly so, sighs contentedly and enjoys the feel of him moving, loves the slick slide of him as he pushes in and out. At this point, she's unsurprised that they fit perfectly together – this whole evening has been beyond her wildest expectations. Her nails rake over his shoulders as she clenches around him, relishes in making him groan and temporarily lose his rhythm, jerking against her. His hips move against hers a little faster as he murmurs in her ear, tells her how wonderful she feels, how warm and wet she is for him, how he wants to stay buried inside her forever, but doesn't think he'll be able to last much longer...

She's whimpering now as he picks up the pace even more, shifts positions slightly and suddenly she can see white, bright sparks before her eyes as he his a spot inside her that she hadn't even known existed. "Oh god!" she moans into his neck as he huffs out a breathless chuckle and keeps going at that angle, that perfect angle, hitting that same spot over and over again. She clenches around him on reflex after one particularly delicious thrust and his rhythm stutters, has him groaning even louder, sneaking a hand down between them to where they are intimately connected and start to rub little circles against her clit.

She cannot remain quiet, cannot. She's experiencing complete bliss, all her senses heightened as her core starts to flutter again, little pulses of pleasure that keep fizzling out until they aren't, until they just keep coming, stronger, longer, make her cry out for him louder. He's moaning too, rolling his hips against her harder, faster, until suddenly she's coming again with a harsh shout, body clenching tightly around him as he thrusts a handful more times before he's also tipping over the edge, releasing into her, hips still jerking intermittently before he stills, collapsing on top of her, unable to support himself any longer. She finds she doesn't mind, enjoys the protective feel of his weight on top of her hers.

Eventually, he raises his head and kisses her gently with a soft smile, but as comfortable as the warmth of his body over hers is, one of her legs begins to cramp, jerking against his side. Realising her discomfort, John shifts off of her and runs a soothing hand along her the affected calf, massaging it gently. As the ache slowly ebs away, he sidles up next to her, opening an arm up to her and smiling sleepily. Regina grins back in return and turns to her side, shifting back into his embrace.

They spoon together, her backside nestled comfortably in the curve of his body. She feels cherished, content and like she might even start purring like a cat as he rests an arm over her belly, fingers tracing soothing patterns on her stomach. The cocoon of his arms give her an overwhelming sense of safety.

She feels suddenly exhausted - like she could fall asleep at any second but her mind won't let her. What they've just done is dangerous for him. Her self-indulgence, if discovered, could cost them both their lives.

She's cold despite the warm arms wrapped around her. Despite the feeling of security enveloping her, the uncertainty of what is to come next lays heavily on her chest, twisting her stomach into knots. This couldn't last. Everything good in her life always has to end, leaving her cold and alone.

He must feel her body stiffen against him because he questions if she's alright.

"I don't want to go back to him, not when I've had this," she confesses and winces internally at the crack in her voice. She doesn't want to appear needy, but he asked after all.

Pressing their cheeks together, he brushes his lips against her skin. "I've become rather addicted to you m'lady. I don't think I can give you up now I've had you." He runs gentle fingers through her hair. "So don't go."

She starts to protest, to warn him about the consequences of her staying, but he doesn't give her the chance, simply brushes another kiss to her temple.

"I'm not scared of your husband. He must be a complete fool to treat you as he does, to not recognise what he has in front of him." His thumb strokes across her brow, smoothing out the lines of anxiety. "Sleep now, we'll figure it out in the morning."

She wills herself to relax back into him, physical and emotional exhaustion overcoming her as she is gradually lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest and gentle fingers playing in her hair.

…

The light of morning bleeds through a gap in the threadbare curtains and settles irritatingly across her face pulling her from blissful sleep.

She has rolled to her front in the night, but John still has an arm draped across her mid-section. Moving her face out of the annoying beam of light, she snuggles closer to him, careful not to awaken him. She lies there for several minutes, drifting between sleep and consciousness until her bladder persistently makes itself known and she has no choice but to get up and find the nearest outhouse.

Careful not to wake him, she gently extricates herself from his arm and pulls her dress over her head, not bothering with her slip as she sneaks out the door. She remembers seeing a communal outhouse not too far of a distance from the alleyway. It looked about as sturdy as the Tavern, but she's pleased to find that it's clean enough when she relieves herself. She's just about to leave when she hears voices outside and hesitates.

"Morning Tuck!" It's a young woman, from the sound of her voice.

"Morning Judith," a male voice greets in return.

"Have you seen my husband? He didn't come up to bed last night," the woman asks, sounding a little anxious.

"Last I saw John he was drinking with Robin, the boys and a rather stunning brunette," the man replies, before their voices drift further away and Regina can no longer make out any of the discussion.

She suddenly feels sick. John is already married, he already has a wife. How could he? She supposes she has done the same thing, made Leopold a cuckold and thrown away her vows with very little regard… But it's not the same thing. Hot tears spill from her eyes unbidden and she swipes at them angrily. It's not the same, because she told him the truth. He knows she's married. But maybe that's why he was ok with taking a married woman into his bed? It's fine for him to be a cheater if she does? The circumstances are hardly the same. She realises she needs to leave, needs to make herself scarce before he comes looking for her and she doesn't want to hear his pitiful excuses. How could she have been so foolish to just leap into bed with the first person to show her any kindness and affection?

She flees the confines of the outhouse in tears, feeling incredibly naive and gullible. Mother had always referred to her as a "stupid girl" and boy, if only she could see her now. She would be _so_ disappointed.

...

The following few days she feels numb, sits in her room, tells the servants that she feels unwell and doesn't want to see anyone in the case that she's contagious. She can't stop thinking about him. How he'd never actually made her any promises, just seduced her with his flowery words and mischievously twinkling eyes. She'd been a fool for hope and she vows to herself that it will never happen again.

After numbness comes rage, anger. How dare Tinkerbell talk her into this dalliance? She isn't some flighty optimistic teenager. She is under the tutelage of The Dark One and granddaughter of a king in her own right, even before she married. And how dare that man, that common ale-swilling barfly, make her feel for him and then... She'll forget that she ever met him, lock his memory into the furthest recesses of her mind and never think about him again. And she doesn't, she hardens against the world even further, lets the darkness consume her soul, sinks further into a desolation she doubts she can ever fully come back from.

Except she can never completely forget.

Six weeks later, his child makes itself known in her belly. This innocent little spark lightens her darkened soul and makes her feel a modicum of love and happiness, even though she knows it must only be temporary.

* * *

 _AN: Well there we have it, next chapter we might just find out how Her Majesty is faring with a newborn in Leopold's castle._

 _Big thank you to revolutionsoftheheart for the Beta and support._


	3. Chapter 3

Her son is a week old. It has been a blissful week of precious moments with her babe, of cuddling him to her chest as she feeds him and bonds with him, inhales his unique scent and falls more and more in love with him every passing moment.

As much as this first week with Roland has been blissful, it has also been one of the most frustrating. She hasn't been able to see him as much as she would have liked to, which is frankly all the time. She never wants to have to be separated from him, but unfortunately she is.

She'd managed to buy herself this time to recover from the birth, by having Louise deliver a message to Leopold's footman, telling him that she was feeling unwell with a stomach flu and needed to stay in bed. His reply back had been short and irritable, instructing her under no uncertain terms that she was expected to be well enough to attend an important state dinner in seven days time. She'd hoped that she could use the illness excuse for a week and a half at least, but luck apparently wasn't on her side and she knew that if she didn't attend, Leopold would just come looking for her, and she couldn't have that.

...

Regina hadn't taken her eyes of her son for the first two days of his life. She memorized every single one of his perfectly delicate features. He slept a lot, something that Henry & Louise both assured her was very normal, so they spent a lot of their time cuddled together. He'd awaken every few hours demanding angrily to be fed and then allow himself to be rocked back to sleep.

She'd managed to fashion cloth napkins for him to wear using her softest flannel wash cloths and safety pins from her sewing box. Roland hated them being changed and would squall loudly and indignantly every time she'd change him. She is concerned that this is because the room is chilly, so she changes him as close as possible to the warm fire in her room and does so as fast as she is able with her inexperience. Then she hushes him, walks him around the room until his whimpers fade and he again falls back to sleep. It's hard work, particularly as her body is still recovering, but she loves every second.

Her father spends as much time with them as possible when they're not resting. He's so completely besotted with his grandson and loves to lay him on his chest and nap together so that Regina can make sure she's fed and watered and gets some rest herself. He's good with babies - something she's surprised, but glad about when she can ask him for advice.

"Do you think he's warm enough?" She frets out loud, not for the first time, as she tucks his blanket around him tightly. How will she know if he's cold, what if he kicks off his blanket in the night and we don't realize and he gets too cold? Or what if he's too hot?

"He'll be fine darling" Henry tells her, "place your hand on his tummy. If he feels hot, take off a layer and we'll keep the fire well-stoked to keep off the chill, but babies are resilient, he'll be fine!"

"How do you know so much about babies? Did they teach you that in your books?" she muses, still fussing with Roland's blanket.

"Who do you think cared for you when you were an infant?" he chortles and Regina looks at him in surprise.

"You did?"

"Well it certainly wasn't your Mother now, was it?"

"I assumed it'd be the Nanny." Cora had a long line of Nanny's. Every time Regina would get attached to one, Cora would find some excuse and fire them. Love was weakness to her mother after all.

"She'd hand you off to the wet nurse or the nanny at every opportunity she'd get, but I'd sneak into your nursery and relieve them." Her father sighs wistfully. "Many a night it was just you and me. I'd read to you as you slept soundly in your crib. Your mother did discover what I was doing eventually, and I expect she gave the Nanny's strict instructions that I wasn't to relieve them, but by then you were sleeping through the night and weren't watched at all times, so I could still sneak in for an hour or so and read to you"

She's touched, truly. She knows her Father loves her, but the depth of his devotion hasn't become apparent until he's finally been out from under Cora's thumb. A weak man he might be, a coward, scared of his wife and what she could do to him, but he is a loving father and has always tried to do right by her, even if he's not always been successful. She feels as though, him coming up with this plan and helping her keep Roland a secret is partly his way of atoning. Of trying to make up for all the times that he has been too feeble to protect her. But she also now realizes that another part of it is his deep love for her and his grandson.

...

They had decided, that as much as Regina hates the idea of being apart from him, that they should move Roland to her father's quarters as they are furthest away from the hustle and bustle of the castle and he's rarely disturbed. Just until they broach the idea of her raising Roland as her ward with her husband.

So at three days old, Roland had spent his first night away from her, sleeping not in a crib as he should have, but in the large drawer of an old oak armoire in Henry's bedroom. She had lined it with her favourite, softest scarves, and covered him in a warm cotton muslin that Louise had donated from her own closet. Her arms already ache for him when she puts him down, but she just can't risk anyone hearing him.

Her father is a complete godsend, caring over the tiny boy in his quarters and ensuring that they are out-of-sight and out-of-hearing. Her son definitely has a healthy set of lungs, but her Father's wing is even further from the main bustle of the castle than her own. So he can scream his little heart out if he wants to, not that Henry let's him and it's very unlikely that anyone will hear him.

Leopold has made it a point to ostracize her Father. Regina believes that her husband feels threatened by the existence of another royal in the castle, so he has made sure to give him the most distant rooms, and never invites him to dinners, doesn't allow him servants and makes sure he has no choice but to keep to himself.

Luckily, Henry enjoys the peace and quiet, enjoys the escape from Cora's royal ambitions and wiles away his days in the expansive libraries and gardens the castle has to offer and it has now become very convenient for him and his daughter.

Regina herself finds him being further away from Roland, more difficult - she sleeps lightly and fitfully and has to sneak out of her room every few hours anyway to feed her baby boy. Fortunately there is a little known servants corridor connecting the two suites that she can use inconspicuously.

Henry dotes on his grandson, constantly hovers over him to make sure he has everything he ever needs. He has fallen irrevocably in love with that tiny boy, and found a new lease of life along with it. He now has a purpose, something he can do to be useful and he relishes it.

Her stepdaughter Snow, deciding that Regina will no longer be contagious after the first few days, has taken to popping in to pester her with inane and boring chatter, so the decision to move her son was wise one, but doesn't make it any easier.

She envies her father, envies him the freedom and the time he can spend with Roland.

...

Their week had passed far too quickly and an hour before she's expected to dinner, she makes sure Roland is fed, tiny belly full and round, and contentedly snuggled in her father's arms, sound asleep. Louise helps her into a warm salted bath, which although a little painful at first, does wonders in making her feel clean & refreshed.

She chooses a gown with an unboned corset tied loosely to avoid discomfort as much as possible. She doesn't feel the same person as she was last time she left her quarters, that person felt hopeless and cold, this one was a mother with a tiny warm fist squeezing at her heart.

Leaving Roland for the evening fills her with an anxiety stronger than she's ever felt before. She's snippy, with her father and with Louise, is cold to them in a way she hasn't been since having her son. Her breasts are leaking, everything aches and she'd refused Louise's offer of taking Opium to relieve her discomfort and attempt to make her feel more relaxed.

Leopold gives a tight smile at her appearance in the drawing room before supper is served and remarks on her pallor which at least that will aid her story of illness. Dinner is long and arduous. Leopold and his guest - a duke, drone on and on about land and taxes while Regina is left to make small-talk with the duke's wife, an insipid, vain woman who is only interested in gossiping about others.

Even after the first hour, Regina wants to leave more than anything. Sitting on the hard chair is uncomfortable, and she resists the urge to squirm after a couple of pointed looks from her husband. Her thoughts are filled with her baby boy, she hopes he's ok, hopes he's slept soundly for his grandfather. How long had she been apart from him now? He's sure to wake up hungry soon.

After five long courses, and several dreary hours, Regina finally makes her escape. Her heart fills with excitement at seeing her little boy as she picks up her skirts and rushes back to her rooms as quickly as possible, escaping down the connecting passage. Halfway along, she hears Roland wailing and she increases her pace and bursts into her father's quarters.

Her son is screaming, little face red and hands waving angrily as her father tries in vain to quieten him, looking harried.

"What happened?" She gasps, out of breath "is he alright?"

She shifts the squirming bundle out of her father's arms and he immediately quiets. Not ceasing his tears all together, but they become noticeably less dramatic.

"I'm so sorry Regina, he's been like this for an hour or so. I tried everything, but I think he's hungry and misses his mother"

Regina wipes Roland's little cheeks with a soft corner of his blanket and makes soothing hushing noises to the baby, close to tears herself.

"It's alright baby," she tells him "oh Roland, it's alright, it's alright" she rocks him and soothes.

"I'll fetch Louise to help you out of your corset" Henry tells her, and goes off in search of her maid.

Louise, hurries into the room and helps her out of her dress and into a long robe and nightgown so she can feed Roland more easily.

Henry comes back into the room when she's settled into a large squashy arm chair by the fire, having fed and burped Roland who is now nestled quietly against his mother.

"Being away from him was torture Daddy" she tells him brokenly "and look what happened"

"But he's fine Regina, nothing terrible happened. I was with him the whole time and he slept through most of it and didn't even know you were gone." her father placates.

"But then he needed me and I wasn't there!" she snaps, furiously wiping away more tears.

"Babies cry, you're not going to always be there for him, regardless of the situation." he sits on the footstool opposite her and allows a now sleepy Roland to grasp onto his finger as his tiny mouth stretches into a yawn.

Regina presses a gentle kiss to her son's hair and watches him drift away into dreamland.

...

Unlike her boy she sleeps fitfully that night, and wakes up in an even more foul mood than she was in before. It's only when she goes to her father's quarters to feed her son early the next morning, and finds her father waving a small pocket mirror over the drawer Roland is sleeping in and he gurgles, waving his arms around uncoordinatedly, transfixed by the shiny object, that she gets an idea.

After thumbing through one of her mother's heavy tomes on magic, she finds what she is looking for, something she was sure she had seen whilst thumbing through it before. A magic spell.

After gathering what she needed to follow the instructions, and after several tries at deciphering the ancient text, a cold gust of wind emanates from the book and she knows she has been successful.

Pulling out her pocket mirror, and swiping her thumb across the surface, the reflection shimmers and she can now see her father walking Roland up and down his living quarters from the view of the ornate mirror above his fireplace. Another swipe of her thumb changes the angle and she can now see them from one of the large mirrored disks hanging from the chandelier.

A smile quirks at her lips and she sighs in relief and satisfaction, a metaphorical weight lifting from her shoulders. Now she can keep a watchful eye on her baby boy when she can't be with him.

...

The next few days are still hard, she's still tearful and hormonal. She feels like everything about her situation is unfair. Leopold wants her to entertain the Duchess of Weselton again, so she has to spend long, tedious hours sipping tea with the vacuous woman. She just about manages to try and look interested and keep her expression from slipping into the vacant. Leopold and Duke Weselton are sipping an expensive brandy and playing chess a little distance away as the ladies talk by the fire.

"Can you simply believe the nerve of them?" the woman gossips.

"Quite ridiculous" Regina chimes in at what she hopes is an appropriate moment, not paying attention in the slightest.

"...and our nearest neighbors are Lord and Lady Chevalier and their ward Nicholas, they hold a ball once every season, it's quite the..."

"Good man, Chevalier" Duke Weselton agrees as he waits for Leopold to make his next move.

Now that piques her interest.

"I'm sorry, Lady Weselton do tell me more about the Chevalier's?" Regina encourages.

"Oh they are quite wonderful people, they own the second largest fiefdom our side of Sherwood forest. Second only to us of course." she titters smugly

"Of course, ...and their family? Do tell me all of the salacious gossip" Regina grins wickedly places her teacup down and leans forward in rapt attention.

"Unfortunately there isn't much to tell, other than the business with Nicholas." the Duchess sips from her cup "He was the child of one of their house maid's. She unfortunately took ill with scarlet fever and left her husband a widow and child an orphan. Unfortunately the husband was unable to look after the child - Nicholas - and Lady Chevalier graciously stepped in. Such a fine act of charity, don't you think, Dear?" she turns to her husband

"Hmm, oh yes, yes the Chevalier's are quite the humanitarians" agrees the Duke.

"Oh yes, they sound quite admirable" Regina sneaks a glance at Leopold to see if he's paying any attention to the conversation, but he appears to be engrossed in his game

"Indeed, they are now very popular amongst their tenants for taking the child in." the Duchess says.

"I can imagine!" Regina enthuses.

"My husband thinks that our other neighbors, the Lord & Lady Carter would do much better if they…" and Regina tunes out again. This conversation may have very well worked in her favor and for the first time, she feels a spark of hope that this will work.

...

"My King..." she starts the next morning, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Leopold had requested her presence again for breakfast. Most likely as a last attempt to keep an eye on her before he leaves for his trip. She makes sure to maintain a calm facade, but inside her heart is pounding. He needs to agree to this, or she doesn't know what she'll do. It has to work, it just has to.

"Yes Regina?"

"A couple of days ago my Father was walking the grounds when he came across a babe abandoned by one of the back Castle gates"

"A babe?" she can tell she's surprised him.

"A newborn boy. My father feels some sort of responsibility to him, having found him and has been making enquiries about a suitable home for the boy." she pauses.

"But after hearing what Duchess Weselton was saying about The Chavalier's yesterday. I was wondering if I might take on the responsibility of the child's well-being?" she schools her features and subtly holds her breath.

Leopold finally looks up and eyes her over the top her his papers "You? You want to… raise this child?" he questions disbelievingly.

"Yes, I've heard it's quite the fashion amongst the nobility and Duchess Weselton was talking about how appreciative the people are when their betters take on the responsibility of one of their own." she informs him.

"So as what, an act of charity?" he scoffs.

"Just a whim I had, I thought it might be something to keep me occupied when you're on progress." she muses. Toying with a segment of grapefruit on her plate.

Leopold contemplates her for several long moments. She can't tell what he's thinking, he has a knack at that, and that's what makes him all the more dangerous. "Let me see the boy Regina." he says quietly.

"You want to see him?" she asks in disbelief. And no, she hadn't planned on this. She balks at the idea of her husband even laying eyes on her innocent child.

"Yes, have a maid bring him to me. Quickly now, I don't have all day." and with that he lowers his eyes back to his documents.

"I-I'll go fetch him myself" she stammers out, momentarily losing her composure and scraping her chair back from the table.

...

She hurries to her father's quarters, mind racing and belly churning nervously. She can barely speak when her father looks up from cuddling Roland, with concern. She just takes the baby and tells him she'll be back. Roland lets out a squawk of protest at the sudden change of scenery and she cuddles him to her, praying that he won't start crying now. She needs a calm child to sway Leopold in his decision.

She pays no mind to the gawping servants and guards as she hurriedly carries her baby through the Castle. Just holds her head high and quickens her pace as much as she's able. Luckily, the jiggling motion of her steps and the comfort of being in his mother's arms, lulls the baby to sleep on their way.

She re-enters the breakfast room and hovers uncertainly at the doorway.

"Bring him closer Regina, I want to take a look at him" Leopold crooks a finger at them, beckoning them over.

Regina walks to him and fights the urge to run back out the door when Leopold holds his arms out to hold her son. What if he notices a familial resemblance between them? At the moment she doesn't think Roland looks _too_ much like her, he still has the slightly squished, generic look of a newborn, but she knows he definitely has her coloring and she thinks he might have her chin... she hopes it's enough to disguise him.

"You don't really cut a maternal figure, my dear." Leopold comments, chuckling lightly.

Regina supposes she doesn't, but she can't help but feel insulted. She _is_ his mother after all, just because she doesn't look like one in her heavily jeweled clothes and bold makeup doesn't mean she doesn't love that boy with every bone in her body.

She gently cups Roland's head and places him into her husbands arms. Holding her breath. Roland scrunches up his face, eyelids fluttering, but doesn't wake up throughout Leopold's inspection.

For all his sins, Leopold is good with children. It's one of the reasons why his own daughter is so doted on and spoiled. So he holds Roland securely enough for Regina's liking, but she is still fighting everything in her to snatch him out of his arms as he contemplates the child in his arms and tickles his belly with a gentle finger.

Roland takes that opportunity to stir and start whining, revving up for what Regina knows is going to be a full-on screaming session soon enough.

"Very well." Leopold finally concedes and indicates that Regina should take the baby back which she does with great relief. She lets Roland suck on a finger, in the hope that it'll keep him distracted from wanting to be fed for a little while longer.

"I can have him, as my ward, you're certain?" she asks in disbelief.

"I don't see why not. You need something to keep you out of trouble and it's not as if you are well schooled in any activities that well-bred ladies usually partake in at court."

It's true. Mother had tried, of course, and hired women to tutor her, but Regina had always been more interested in exploring and riding her horse, so she was completely inept at needlework or music.

"The people will praise us for taking on one of their own." he recognizes and she suspects this may be the main reason for agreeing to this. Leopold likes to present himself as a benevolent King, well loved amongst his people, but the truth is that high taxes and strict laws have made his popularity decrease. Queen Eva was the one who would tend to people's needs and be the voice of reason with her husband, but since she'd died the quality of life for non-nobles had been gradually decreasing.

She sends a silent prayer of thanks to Duchess Weselton for her conveniently useful gossiping the night before. Perhaps without her, Leopold wouldn't have pieced together how much of a boost to his reputation this could be.

"He will be your responsibility though Regina, and I expect Children to be seen and not heard in this Castle."

"Of course, my King" she readily agrees.

"Ask your maid to find you a wet nurse for him." he picks his papers back up, and begins to scan over them again.

"What?!" she's taken aback by that.

"Wet nurse, don't you know anything Regina?" He frowns at her again over his paper "The boy needs breast milk. Are you sure you're capable of taking care of this infant, what have you even been feeding him until now?"

She hadn't thought of that. "He seems to have taken to warmed goat's milk" she fabricates. She's sure that she's heard or read somewhere that goat's milk is an adequate substitute for babies, though she's not 100% sure about newborns, and luckily for her neither is Leopold.

"I suppose he might, but he'd do better with breast milk. Find him a nurse." he instructs and with that and a wave of his hand he dismisses them.

She turns to leave feeling elated, euphoric, can't really believe that she's gotten away with her plan so easily...

"Oh and Regina?" he pushes his chair back and stands.

"Yes?"

"You may thank me."

She swallows hard, immediately understanding his meaning. She clasps Roland to her, leans over and presses a brief kiss to his mouth.

"Thank you my King."

* * *

AN: Un-beta'd so please forgive any mistakes. This is my first time trying to write a longer story so please let me know your thoughts!

Hopefully next Chapter we'll revisit Robin.

You can also follow me on Twitter - CMassiter_OQ


End file.
